Chapter 71: Partners In Crime (Patreon)

Eleanor looked at Willem intently. This would be the second time that her strange and singular fixation on Willem had landed her in hot water. Only… this time, there was something else in the back of her mind. Her people had sent her here with the intention that she come back a hero or not come back at all. But then, they’ve never really been her people. They were her masters. And she had long ago grown tired of heeding orders.

“Do you genuinely think that there’s a peaceful way out of this for the Red Raven?” Eleanor said, placing her hands on the table before her as if to demonstrate her pacifism. “Regardless of your open mindedness, you saw for yourself that most people of this kingdom consider her nothing more than a monster to be killed like any gryphon or dragon.”

“People will eat dung if you call it chocolate and make it go down easy.” Willem said.

Eleanor narrowed her eyes. He was comparing her to dung?

“And we have an advantage,” Willem continued. “If they do end up swallowing her, metaphorically speaking, they’ll realize that she tastes quite nice. She’s as much a monster as I am. Perhaps a little less,” he finished. “And the thing of it is, we would only have to make one person come around to trying out the dung. The nice thing about dictatorships is that you don’t have to deal with that meddling red tape.”

“The king,” Eleanor guessed.

“Just so,” Willem said with a nod. “I’m sure that someone who personally executes their own son can overlook a few mismatched limbs. It would almost be hypocritical for him to object to working with a monster.”

“And how, exactly, would you make the king scoop dung up off the floor and eat it with a smile on his face?” Eleanor asked. “Despite everything, he’s a very shrewd man. I’m sure he’ll notice if we sprinkle it up and call it something wondrous.”

“He plays the cynical pragmatist, but in truth he’s got quite a few biases of his own.” Willem said, putting his arm on the back of the bench. “I think as much can be demonstrated by the fact that I’m having to deal with Hans. The king has a flaw that many great men before him have had. He’s got crippling mommy issues.”

Eleanor narrowed her eyes. “I’m told his mother is dead.”

“His mommy issues run so deep that he’s still taking out his grievances on his mother’s relatives. Any person that’s a member or descendant of the Dubois family are subject to his unnatural bias. Maybe mommy cut his sandwich the wrong way, maybe she gave his dog away, or maybe she spanked him—it’s not really my concern. My concern is efficiency. I’m sure you see where I’m going with this, knowing our previous conversations.”

It didn’t take long for Eleanor to piece together what he was talking about. When last they had spoken, they were discussing how best to utterly ruin Duke Baptiste.

Eleanor leaned her head on her hand as her elbow braced against the table. “So, you want to tell the king that if he eats shit, that the Dubois family will suffer.”

“If we come to the king with a way to bring the Dubois family down, His Morbid Majesty will undoubtedly leap at the opportunity.” Willem leaned in closely. “It’s a lovely excuse to both give me precisely what I want, and give the Red Raven, that lovely life saver, precisely what she deserves. A way to break free from the clutches of Avaria, and get a little payback while she’s at it.”

“And how would she know that she wouldn’t be left in the lurch?” Eleanor said quietly. “How would she know that she wouldn’t be left holding the bag?”

“Because she’d be dealing with me,” Willem said with a certain grandiose flair. “With me, the deal always goes smoothly.”

As Eleanor listened, she felt a certain exuberance after his words. That emotion was something that hadn’t come to her in a long time. While she honestly couldn’t say whether or not this was a good idea, she could say that it would be her preferred way of going out—dealing the biggest blow to her owner’s espionage efforts that anyone ever had, perhaps ever.

“And what about the other little drakelings?” Eleanor asked. “They’re surely going to be sniffing around. And dung, as I’m sure you know, is quite stinky. Dragons, even baby ones, have a rather robust sense of smell.”

“The answer for that is lying in your pocket.” Willem grinned dumbly.

Eleanor narrowed her eyes, but did check her pocket. The moment that her hands rested upon it, she immediately knew what it was. She pulled out a bar of lavender soap, and placed it on the table with an exhausted sigh.

“No jokes,” Eleanor said. “How?”

“Who said I was joking?” Willem said, putting both of his arms behind his head. “You’d be surprised what people are willing to overlook when they think they’ve figured out some clever secret. Misdirection is a powerful tool.”

“So… you want me to hide in plain sight by being the apparent advocate for your soap business while we spin the trap for Baptiste.” Eleanor leaned back in the bench. “It all sounds a little too… clean.”

“There’ll be some dirt, I’m sure,” Willem agreed with a sage nod. “But that’s why we have—”

“Don’t say it,” Eleanor interrupted exhaustedly.

Willem pursed his lips to hide a growing smile. “The bottom line is pretty simple. You need to attend Sybrand’s upcoming event as Baptiste’s partner. If that’s something that you can do, well… we can make hay while the sun shines.”

“And what about your partner?” Eleanor asked, a faint twinge in her tone. “After all, you don’t exactly have the Red Raven around to bolster your image any longer.”

“Bolster my image?” Willem asked with a raised eyebrow. Eleanor gave him an unamused glare. “Listen… if you don’t think that I can find an adequate partner, then you must not have been paying attention to the news of late. Besides… do you have any idea who I am? I’m the great Willem Jansen. I can find a partner anywhere I want to go.”

***

The great Willem Jansen was unable to find a suitable partner before Sybrand’s event. He consoled his wounded ego with the knowledge that he had waited until the last moment to do so, but he couldn’t deny that his vast self-image finally showed a first crack. Ultimately, rather than attend with anyone from a prominent house, he partnered with his sister, Suzanne. It was excusable enough—anyone observing would think that Willem had brought her simply to introduce her to the prominent figures that would be present, thereby saving him from the embarrassing reality that he was unable to convince anyone.

He did have a somewhat valid excuse. He had been running around frantically to make sure that the soap sales that had been secured were of high quality and high quantity. And indeed, they were. Things had been going very well on the business front, doubly so now that people knew him as one of the six drakes. Ultimately, it didn’t matter to Willem how the sales came about, because they had a good fundamental product that would retain customers.

But now, that day had finally come. A grand event, which promised to be the roaring inception into the espionage efforts of the Six Drakes. Here, the contestants would make connections with everyone around the Kingdom, all for the effort of catching the elusive Red Raven. Willem walked side by side with his partner. Arend was following just behind—they were permitted guards, here.

“Have you seen mom yet?” Suzanne asked. “She said that she would probably be coming with Tielman if it was possible.”

“Tielman?” Willem repeated. “That doesn’t make sense. He’s supposed to be in the barony.”

“He was summoned back to the capital to receive his new peerage as count,” Suzanne explained. “He was supposed to arrive today.”

Willem nodded in remembrance. “Ah, yes. The title of count; the bribe to ignore the fact that the king cut off his son’s hand. I suppose it’ll be good to see him again. Our father, not the cut-happy king,” he clarified.

A brief silence set in between them as they trudged onward toward the ballroom.

“If Galahad asks any strange questions, I want you to let him know that we’re only brother and sister,” Suzanne said insistently as they walked closer.

“Have you been spinning lies about me?” Willem asked, casting her a strange glance.

“No!” Suzanne defended at once. “Galahad just has a very vivid imagination, being that he’s a spy master. The artifacts that I used to allow you and your… brother… to speak are… well, let’s just say that they’re lovers’ artifacts.”

“Ah. So, rather than telling your boss that the lovers’ artifacts were for you and your brother, you’d rather him think that they were for your two brothers,” Willem said jokingly. “Very well. I’ll let him know.”

Suzanne had become well accustomed to Willem’s jokes by this point, and didn’t respond as she looked up at the grand ballroom that Sybrand had secured for them. She stopped him. “How do I look?”

Willem looked at her briefly. “I don’t know. Your dress matches the color of your eyes. I guess that was deliberate.”

“Ugh. I miss Dirk,” Suzanne complained, walking forward toward the sounds of music and revelry. “He’d know what to say right about now.”

“I miss him more than you do,” Willem argued.

Suzanne glanced at Willem, but decided not to rise to the provocation. “That suit looks like your mother chose it for you,” she condemned.

“So what if she did?”

Suzanne laughed briefly, but they couldn’t engage further before they found themselves at the threshold of the ballroom that had been rented. They were stopped at the gate, and Willem produced an invitation to show the doorman. Thereafter, the doorman went to speak to a royal crier, who went out into the ballroom to give a grand promulgation.

The royal crier grandly introduced Willem and Suzanne, speaking of tales that Willem himself barely knew he’d done. He was quite the hype man. Then, they were bid to enter, and the event unfolded before them. Somehow, Sybrand, a lowly monk with a bulging belly, had been able to secure one of the grandest venues that Willem had ever laid eyes upon. It looked like they’d rented out the Sistine Chapel or Versailles. It was stately marble architecture, of such precision and attention to detail that it could be likened to the greatest buildings in all of Europe.

The people within were as high quality as the building surrounding them. Willem could smell money in the air. It smelled like excessively expensive perfume, desperation, and an unhealthy dose of narcissism. He might try and bring some soap sales out of the people here or plant some bars in people’s pockets, but he had done enough of that in the past few days that the snowball would already be rolling down the hill, gaining momentum.

Now was the time to focus on the big scheme. Now was the time to focus on ruining Duke Baptiste Dubois. And as he looked throughout the hall, it didn’t take long for him to spot his co-conspirator. Sharp green eyes of the same intelligence that had once looked at him from the visage of Petronella met his own. They didn’t linger long. That would be unwise. Still, that short little glance was more than enough to let the other know that the hunt was on.

“So, were you serious about finding a match for Hans?” Suzanne asked. “He may be my brother, but even I’d admit you have your work cut out for you.”

“I’ll find something for him,” Willem promised. “After all, look how many eyes are on me already.”

For once, Willem wasn’t bragging unduly. The eyes of most everyone were upon him. It wasn’t because of what he’d done in the business world, but because of his title as one of the Six Drakes. Tonight, at least, all attention would be focused on those who seemed poised to inherit the kingdom.

Willem knew how to play rich people. He’d been doing it his entire life. Being the center of attention wouldn’t be a new experience for him. As a matter of fact, he knew how to play it to his advantage better than most anyone. This would be the beginning of a very complex dance. Willem was eager to learn the steps.

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